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Chapter 8
Previous Chapter Leaves crackled under Marcus’s foot as he inched forward, crouched to minimize his profile. For the last hour, he had been stalking his prey, a large deer. The skills he had learned in the Army were serving him well now. He could close the distance slowly without his target ever realizing. The deer did bound away for no real reason every now and then, but finally, it seemed to be letting its guard down. Just several more feet to the log up ahead, and Marcus could take a shot. The deer seemed to have found some fruit it was nibbling at. Marcus unslung his rifle from his back, and braced it on the log. He began lining up his shot, taking care to take into account the wind. He drew his breath, held it, and took the shot. It was a clean hit, but not a lethal one. The deer reared back in pain and surprise. Marcus didn’t waste the opportunity. He pulled the bolt back on his rifle, ejecting the empty shell, and slammed it back into place, taking another shot immediately. Another hit. The deer cried out, but found the strength to start dashing away. Marcus was already on his feet running towards it as it started to turn. Stealth was of no concern anymore. With open wounds bleeding profusely, the animal would tire and he could finish it off, but if he lost track of it now, he would have wasted all this time. Crashing through branches and barely keeping on his feet at times, Marcus chased. He paused only brief seconds every now and then to confirm whatever he could about the direction the deer was headed in. Marcus was closing in, and as he broke into a clearing, he saw an open shot to the fleeing deer. It was going to be hard, but if he hit it, he could end the chase now. The high adrenaline chase had left his fingers trembling, but he willed them to stop. Bringing his rifle up to his shoulder, he aimed down the sights. Marcus took a breath to steady his aim, and pulled the trigger. A miss. He yanked back the bolt, putting another round into place. He raised the rifle, taking aim once more. Another gunshot split the silence and the deer slammed into the ground as the bullet penetrated into its body. Marcus sprinted over. This was his chance. While the animal was struggling to get to its feet, he bore down on it. Marcus closed the distance in a flash, and drew his knife. He threw himself to the ground, sliding across it to close the last few feet. One arm came down hard to stun the deer and put it back down as the other guided two quick stabs to vital points, and its struggling finally came to a stop. The adrenaline running through his system was an intense high for Marcus. He breathed a sigh of relief and satisfaction. Getting to his feet, he looked skyward. He had left his cabin at 8 in the morning to hunt. Judging from the position of the sun, it was probably getting close to noon now. The hunt had lasted longer than he would have liked, and to get back to his cabin, he had at least a two-hour hike – while dragging a 200 pound beast with him. He unslung his backpack and dropped it on the ground, then unzipped it to find his gloves. After putting them on, he drew his hunting knife. The deer wasn’t going to dress itself. * * * It was nearly 3 o’clock by the time Marcus finally returned to his cabin. The deer was left in his large freezer in the garage. He would do the rest of the work preparing it tomorrow. Right now, he wanted to clean up and relax. Heading back into his house, he headed for the gun locker, stowing his rifle away and locking it up. He unbuttoned his camouflage shirt, still stained with dirt from the hunt and blood from the kill. Leaving a trail of dirty clothes behind him, he walked into the shower. Running water was a luxury out here. He had to pay every week to get a tank of water delivered up to his cabin, and the pump maintenenced. His time in the Army had taught him to be brutally efficient though. Water on, get wet, water off. Lather, scrub, rinse. No more than three minutes were spent on a shower. Wiping himself off, he walked into his bedroom. Marcus slipped into his comfortable jeans and t-shirt, and started to head back out to the den. Suddenly, something caught his eye. He dashed to the window. A car was parked behind a large tree. There were sounds at his front door. Whoever that car belonged to was already about to enter his house. Marcus dashed to his bed next, and reached under his pillow, finding his pistol. Flipping the safety off, he hid the gun behind his back and silently crept out of his room. Thieves and thugs often preyed upon people living in the mountains. Without a good phone connection up here, they had a massive headstart on the police even if they were caught in the act – not that Marcus would ever call the police for anything. He handled his own problems. He had certain talents. It had been a while since he had “turned on” his Malicesight. Since a young age, he had been able to see danger and the malice of others, and he gladly used it all the time. In the martial arts tournaments of his youth, he had been like water, fluidly using his ability to barely dodge attacks while moving in to counter attack. In his time in the Army, it had been an invaluable asset for keeping his team out of trouble. Living out here in the wilderness though, there was little reason to need it. Three years had passed since the times when his life was filled with combat. It was a little odd using it again. He used to be able to unconsciously have it active all the time. Now he had to focus it to use it. He turned his focus towards the front door where the intruder should be. He sensed nothing. Perhaps it was just a horribly lost salesman. He moved forward silently, gun still hidden behind his back in case he was wrong. He rounded a corner to see a man standing in the doorway to his kitchen. The man looked over, then turned to Marcus. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” Marcus asked. “I’m looking for Marcus Cato. I heard he lived in a cabin up here in these mountains.” Marcus tensed, resisting the urge to draw his weapon. How did this man know his name? Marcus hadn’t registered his location anywhere; He made sure of that. He had been off the grid for nearly three years. There shouldn’t be any trace of him even being in this state. The false trail he planted when he disappeared should have pointed anyone who was searching for him towards New York. So who the hell was this? He forced himself to calm down and take a good look to see what he could glean. The man was dressed in an impeccable pinstripe suit, not a wrinkle in sight. In one hand was a manilla folder, clearly holding some important documents. A breeze blew in from outside, fluttering his jacket. The slight movement was enough to afford Marcus a quick glimpse of the standard-issue side holster. A government agent. Here to bring him in? He feigned confusion. “Never heard of this Marcus fellow. Now please get the hell out of my house.” Marcus let his hand holding his gun drop to his side. The agent glanced at the gun, but not the slightest bit of worry crept onto his face. He reached into his jacket, and pulled out his badge, flipping it open. “I’m Special Agent Carter Rook of the FBI.” He snapped the badge closed and returned it to his jacket pocket. “But I’m not here in any official capacity. I’m not here to take you in. I don’t care what you’ve done in the past. I’m here about your present and your future, and I want to talk to you about a very important matter. Now are you Marcus or some guy who’s never heard of him?” Marcus stared intently at Agent Rook, looking for any sign of deception. He couldn’t discern anything, nor could he feel any malice coming from him. It wouldn’t hurt to hear what he had to say. If he was here to bring Marcus in, it wouldn’t help to turn him away anyways. “Let’s talk in the den.” Marcus gestured inside as he flipped the safety on his gun on and tucked it into the back of his jeans. Carter went ahead of him, sitting down on the couch in front of a coffee table. Marcus followed, pulling up a chair to sit face to face with the man, on the opposite side. Carter put down the folder and flipped it open. Unclipping a photo, he turned it around and slid it across the table to Marcus. “Have you seen or been approached by people wearing anything like this?” Marcus picked up the photo. It was blurry, but he could make out a man in black, hooded coat. The face was hidden from the camera by shadows. There was an insignia on the coat’s right breast. He picked up the photo and turned it over to see the word ‘Hunter’ scrawled on there. “No, I haven’t had any unwanted visitors in nearly three years.” Marcus slid the picture back over to Carter. “Who are these people? Why should I care?” “They call themselves Organization MERLIN. They’re hunting for people with…” Carter paused, searching for the right word. “…abilities. Like the one you have.” “Abilities? I don’t have any abilities.” Though his voice was calm and steady, Marcus’s mind was racing. This guy had not only tracked him down, but even knew of his powers. Just how much did he know? “Are you still not through with this charade, Marcus?” Carter sighed. “Three years ago, you were serving in Iraq. Your team was ambushed and one of your teammates was shot. You then proceeded to slaughter everyone in the ambush before healing your comrade’s wounds. And then you deserted and ran, thinking you could hide out here in Terrace Grove and live a normal life. You’ve done decently. The military at least has more or less given up on finding you. But not everyone’s stopped looking. Your past has caught up with you. Things like this don’t stay a secret forever, Marcus. Organization MERLIN is looking to capture people like you, and they’ve found you. They’re here. In Terrace Grove.” Marcus grimaced. That was spot-on. Carter knew everything. “Why?” Marcus asked, pulling himself back together. “What are they going to do when they capture me?” “I haven’t been able to figure that out yet.” Carter sighed, leaning back. “They’ve already been moving. At least two abductions have occurred in the last week. I’ve been trying to track where they take them, but so far, nothing. I just don’t have enough resources.” “The FBI don’t have the resources to track them?” Marcus gave Carter a sideways look. Carter shook his head. “This isn’t an official investigation. I’m doing this off the books with a small team. I fear the organization may already have installed high ranking members in the FBI. There’s only so many people I can trust.” “What do you want me to do about it?” Marcus asked. “You came here for answers, but I have more questions than you.” “A man like you doesn’t stay hidden for three years without some help. You must have contacts in town. Talk to them.” Carter said. “They’re sure to watch everyone who comes and goes. Maybe they know something.” Marcus thought about it for a minute. He still wasn’t quite ready to believe what Carter was telling him, but ignoring information like this and having it turn out to be true later was far worse than seeing it through only to find out Carter was a crackpot. “Fine. I’ll talk with some of my contacts in town tomorrow, see if they know anything about this Organization MERLIN.” “Make sure you do that. And call me anytime if you need anything.” Carter pulled a blank card out of his jacket, and wrote down a phone number. “We can help each other.” He stood up, leaving the card on the table, and walked out. Marcus followed him, closing the door after Carter. He watched as Carter walked back out to his car, and drove away. Marcus headed to the kitchen. There was a lot to think about tonight, and there was a lot of work to be done tomorrow, but for now, he was starving. Next Chapter